Moving Day
by TereC
Summary: Through Jonas' eyes after Redemption Part 2


Title:  Moving Day

AUTHOR: Tere C    
EMAIL: tere_c@cliffhanger.com   
CATEGORY: Hurt/Comfort   
SPOILERS: Through Redemption Part 2

SEASON / SEQUEL: Season 6

RATING: G  
SUMMARY:   Clearing out Daniel's office  
STATUS: Complete   
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.  This story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands.  No copyright infringement is intended. The situations and original story are the property of the author.  Not to be archived without permission of the author. 

  
  


**_Moving Day_**

Three months.  

Well, three months, two weeks, and four days, actually.  There's nothing like a near miss for his new home to get him counting the days that he'd been there.  And then, counting the days brought back other issues.  

Jonas certainly could understand how difficult it was in the first few days and weeks following the accident.  Shock, sadness, grief, and anger, and then the need to get on with life, to leave alone the things that couldn't be changed; Jonas knew the process well.  He'd felt loss once, not so long ago, back home.  He felt this loss now, and he didn't even really know the guy.  

Still, it was time to move on.  Time to put away what Jonas figured to be painful reminders of their friend.  General Hammond had, much to Jonas' surprise, agreed to his using the lab in the first place to allow him to learn about Earth and human history.  Jonas had just taken that one step further in recent days.  

Since no one seemed interested in going through Dr. Jackson's possessions, he had begun that task.  The others hadn't minded his camping out in the space over the past few weeks—if they had, they didn't say anything—nor his careful cataloguing of the room's contents.  It shouldn't be a problem for him to complete packing up the rest of the unnecessary clutter.  Of course, it wasn't a matter of just clearing out the junk; Jonas wanted to keep quite a bit of Dr. Jackson's logs and notes.  It was more an effort to make the space work for him.

Surveying the room, Jonas shook his head.  How did Dr. Jackson work in this mess?  Not that he was fastidious, but he did believe in organization.  The cacophony of confusion would have driven him insane after a while.  He went to a shelf and began to remove the texts, scanning their covers again to confirm he hadn't missed reading one before placing them in the box on the floor.

Major Carter knew he'd taken up residence, of sorts, in Dr. Jackson's laboratory.  It saddened him that she always seemed disappointed to see him in the room.  She covered it well, but Jonas knew who she was looking for.  It showed on her face when he'd look up from his notes.  Hopefully, clearing out the painful reminders would allow her to disassociate the room from its previous occupant.

When he'd filled the box with books, he sealed it with brown tape and then wrote a detailed list of its contents on the flap.  If he ever needed to refer to a text, he'd be able to easily locate it.  

He'd started culling through the good doctor's things out of a need to do something.  He had been on Earth for a couple of weeks before asking General Hammond's permission to borrow some of the historical texts from the shelves.  Little by little, he'd spent more time in the space and, almost as an afterthought, he found himself sorting through years of notes and texts and research.  

His curiosity got the best of him and his sorting and cataloging turned into absorption as Jonas very quickly assimilated the records Jackson had kept concerning SG-1's missions and those of other teams as well.

As he packed, Jonas set a few special texts aside.  One was on basic Latin.  It was simple in style, but provided the building blocks for many of Earth's languages.  Understanding the fundamentals would allow him to quickly put together a reference base for future reference.  Jonas had no delusions that he would never be a linguist.  He had no interest to that end.  But, he knew that everything he picked up would help those of his new home, and possibly those on his home world as well.

Shifting strategies, he decided to clear the room of the artifacts first instead of the books.  That would give him space to set aside the books he wanted ready access to.  Jonas carefully packed artifacts, wrapping each delicate and ancient piece within acid-free paper and air-puffed plastic, bubble-wrap he'd heard someone call it, and then newsprint before placing them within a cardboard box and sealing it with tape.  

He picked the box up and carried into the corridor to place on the floor against the wall.  He'd ask General Hammond where the items could be stored later.

"Hey," a voice said behind him.

Jonas jumped at the sound, setting the box down more heavily than he'd intended. "Colonel O'Neill.  Hello," he said, simultaneously straightening his posture and spinning around to face the older man.  He watched the colonel enter into the lab, pausing for a moment before crossing to the table.  Following, Jonas brushed his hands on the rough material of his trousers.  "Is there something you need, Colonel?"         

"Uh, no.  I just saw . . . I'm surprised, actually.  No one has dealt with all this?"  O'Neill stammered.  A wooden flute-like instrument lay on the table, the next item to be wrapped and stored, and the colonel picked it up, absently turning it in his long fingers, lost in thought.

"No, sir.  I hope this is all right?  General Hammond did say I could . . ."

"Yeah, yeah.  I know.  It's all right," he said softly.  He looked around at all of the open boxes and stacks of books and papers and wrappings, the usually overflowing bookcases and stands now partially emptied.  "Need some help?"

The corners of Jonas' mouth turned up a bit, not quite a smile given the circumstances.  "That'd be nice, sir."  Jonas handed a sheet of tissue paper and quickly instructed him on how to carefully preserve the objects.

They worked silently for a long while.  Occasionally, Jonas would glance over at the colonel as he worked.  O'Neill would look an item over, as if remembering the mission from which the object was retrieved, before wrapping it and setting it aside. 

"You know, Quinn, I know it wasn't your fault . . . the accident.  It could have just as easily happened when we weren't there."

Jonas nodded, unsure of where the conversation was heading.  He usually had a good feel for these things, but the colonel .  .  . He was hard to read.  He was guarded with most everyone.  Well, most everyone except Major Carter and Teal'c.  They had long-standing ties between them—ties that would remain long after they left their posts at the SGC.

"I just wanted you to know that," Colonel O'Neill said.

"I do, sir."

"Yeah."  The colonel looked up from the box he'd been filling and blinked as if he'd just awakened.  Flaps flopped on the box as he wrestled it shut and then hoisted off of the table.  "I'm going to . . ." he said limping to the door.

"Yes, sir."  

Jonas smiled again, a nervous, self-conscious smile, as the colonel rounded the corner.  He was sure that would be the closest thing he'd get from the colonel to absolution, not that Jonas needed absolution from the man.  

The events of that day still replayed in his mind.  All he had to do was close his eyes and he could hear the alarms sounding, see Dr. Jackson crashing through the glass while he crouched, frozen in place.  They'd both known the risks that could occur during the test but Jonas had never imagined the worst-case scenario would have played out in front of him.  No, it wasn't the colonel who could grant him release from the memories.

Jonas had always heard that there were moments of truth in life—moments when a person is challenged to overcome, moments in which they either succeed or fail.  That day was a challenge to both he and Dr. Jackson and life was rewarded to the one who failed.  Jonas could only learn from the events and go on.  Not doing so would constitute a bigger failure.

Shoving into another box the last book from the stack he'd sorted earlier, he closed the flaps and sealed it with packing tape.  As he struggled to stand and lift the box at the same time, he lost his balance, the box tipping forward.

"Allow me, Jonas Quinn." 

Jonas glanced up to see Teal'c reaching for the box and steadying its weight as he regained his footing.  "Thanks."

"Teal'c saw me in the corridor," O'Neill said.

"I thought I might be of assistance.  This is a task that has been put off far too long."

Nervously, at a loss for something to say, Jonas smiled briefly again, as Colonel O'Neill put Teal'c on a packing detail.  Jonas carried the box of books to the corridor and stacked it next to the others.  The pile had grown from just a couple to many, as five years of work and hopes and memories were condensed for storage.  

Straightening, he heard a motor kick on down the hallway.  The water fountain.  He headed toward it for a drink.  The dust had begun to get to him and he figured that the colonel and Teal'c could probably use a moment alone.  After a sip, he stepped into the restroom and washed the dust from his hands before heading back to the lab.  

Voices drifted through the door as he approached.  Colonel O'Neill's.  Major Carter's.  They all must have some sort of unique telepathic bond, he thought, smiling.  Didn't take the others long to show up after the colonel.  Jonas felt a stab of jealousy at their connection.  He'd never had that sort of relationship with coworkers back home.  Maybe it was the life and death situations they'd been in that forged that type of link.  

Jonas started to enter the room, but stopped short as he saw Colonel O'Neill pull Major Carter into an embrace, her face turned toward the colonel's collar.  He could hear her crying and the colonel speaking softly to her as he stroked her hair.  

Embarrassed, Jonas backed out of the room and leaned against the concrete wall to give them privacy as Teal'c walked up, a roll of tape in his hand.

"Is anything wrong, Jonas Quinn?" Teal'c asked, his eyebrow arching in that questioning manner of his.

Nodding his head toward the room, he said, "Major Carter." 

"With Colonel O'Neill?" 

Again, Jonas nodded.

Teal'c said nothing for a moment.  He simply stood outside of the doorway staring at Jonas and waited for a long beat, and then announced, "We emptied the adhesive.  I have found more."  

Jonas followed Teal'c into the room and saw Major Carter quickly step back from the colonel and turn away, wiping at her eyes.  

"Thanks, Teal'c.  This should do it," the colonel said taking the proffered tape, his voice a little rough.  "Let's get this finished."  

Major Carter faced them and smiled, her nose red from crying.  "Yes, sir.  Jonas, what's next?"

"You all don't have to do this . . ." Jonas began.  "I don't mind.  Really."

Colonel O'Neill gave a small, sad smile before speaking.  "We can do this together.  You're a part of SG-1 now and, besides, you know what all of this stuff is.  You do, don't you?"

Jonas cocked his head.  Humor.  The colonel's defense system.  "Yes, sir.  Actually, I do."

Jack handed Jonas the roll of tape.  "Then, let's get this finished.  All of us."

~~~ The End ~~~


End file.
